The Quiet Ones
by VoiDreamer
Summary: It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for. Art spends an evening cautioning Raylan only to find himself in an all too similar situation at home. A fluffy one-shot in time for the holidays. OC/Tim Gutterson


AN: Ok so this was written in a little under two hours. The result of me trying to get back into Kentucky Summer. As such the main character does indeed share the same name as the main character of that fic. I haven't decided yet if I'll be restructuring it to fit this new idea, but I thought it was a fun little piece that could stand on it's own regardless.

I can't wait for the new season in January!

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize, they belong to the original writers including the talented Mr. Leonard.

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

"I'm telling you Raylan, its good if your daughter is a noisy little thing. It's when they get quiet that you should start worrying."

It was a quiet evening at the office and with nothing better to do Raylan had managed to wheedle a glass of bourbon from his favorite boss. He also had signed up for a trip down memory lane with his comment about his newborn daughter and the fussiness that was quickly driving him nuts.

"You speaking from experience, Art? Or just trying to scare me?" Tipping the glass back as he took another long drink from his glass, Raylan sighed, "Damn but she's got a pair of lungs."

"I'm telling you son, it's the day she quiets down that the real trouble starts. And I'm speaking from experience here."

"Yeah?"

Art nodded, expression growing dark, "My youngest, Ellen, is a real wild child, but it's my oldest that worries me. Val's never really been a noisy one, but every time she's made an announcement it's always been a big one. Last time she got us together around the holidays she told us she was moving abroad to teach a year in the Middle East!"

Matching his companion's long drink, Art savored the swallow, "Leslie nearly fainted, poor thing."

"So Val's a real hell raiser huh?"

"Oh hardly." Shaking his head, Art leaned over to refill his glass, "She's usually the quiet, mature one. It's just that every once and a while she makes these big life changes without giving us a fair warning."

Eyeing the calendar, the older marshal sighed, "She's called a meeting again this holiday. Said something about this guy she met while she was teaching, apparently he's something special."

"No kidding?" Raylan raised his brows in sympathy, "You may have just inherited a son-in-law."

His ribbing drew a pained groan, "Don't even joke about that. Leslie will have an absolute fit is it turns out Val got married without the family."

"Well, maybe it's just an engagement then."

"We haven't even met the young buck!"

From the corner of his eye Raylan caught sight of Tim packing up. Quiet and efficient, Tim was the counterpoint to Raylan's sometimes overtly loud method of handling word. But they got along, and under normal circumstances Tim would not have passed up the chance to have a drink and unwind.

But when Art had offered not an hour earlier Tim had politely excused himself citing some vaguely personal reason. He was an intensely private man, so the lack of answer was not an issue so much as it broke with the usual habit of things.

Raylan couldn't remember the last time Tim had turned down a glass of Art's best.

"Think it's a woman?"

Watching him head of the office and disappear down the stairwell, Raylan made a quiet noise of curiosity, "I couldn't even try to guess. That man seems to have more secrets than the CIA."

Art shrugged as he began his second glass, "That one's still a mystery to me too."

"It could be a woman though," Raylan gave the door one last considering look before turning back to his boss, "That hickey didn't put itself on his neck."

Art choked.

"The what?!"

Raylan grinned, "Details, Art. It's all about the details."

* * *

"Well, What do you think?"

It was late, _really _late, but there was never a time like the present when it came to Leslie Mullen's quest for the perfect gift.

The deep blue scarf unfurled in front of face and screen alike.

"Well?" Ignoring her husband's groan as she disrupted his alone time with the television, Leslie waited with practiced patience as Art shifted gears from television to answering her question.

"Really, Les? A scarf?" Art sighed as he paused the program, knowing he wouldn't be allowed to focus on it again until his wife was satisfied, "It's hardly gone below forty and we're nearly at Christmas."

"It's supposed to snow tomorrow so I was going to send it over in the morning since Val is stopping by. I thought maybe he could get some use out of it before they show up on Tuesday."

"They? Tuesday?" Art raised an eyebrow, "She's bringing her mystery guy over for the holidays?"

"Apparently he was going to spend it alone otherwise." Looking pained, Leslie touched her heart, "Can you imagine? Poor thing. I told her she was more than welcome to invite him."

Art had spent his fair share of holidays alone, but figured that under the circumstances his wife would not appreciate his two sense.

Instead he nodded at the scarf and said only, "Whatever you think is right, love. You know you're the boss behind this operation."

And because he was a good husband, and a _smart _man, Art was rewarded with a kiss and a well-deserved slice of cake. He was even allowed to return to his television.

* * *

"Are you nervous?"

It was still dark when Valentine posed the question to him, but given that they had spent the better part of the previous evening and the early hours of this morning lost in frantic coupling, she knew he would be awake to answer.

Dark blue eyes opened slowly, "Should I be?"

She smiled as she shook her head, snuggling closer as her body continued to tremble with the aftermath of what had been a tremendously pleasurable few hours.

"No, but I was curious. When was the last time you made a family visit?"

Brown-blond hair fell into his eyes as he turned to look at her, "Never. But I don't exactly scare easy."

His hand traced a looping path from the top of one of her shoulders down her arm, fingers dancing across her skin as he slowly made his way to the delicate dip of her waist. It had been a very long time since he had cared enough about a woman to stay the night, never mind make a habit of it.

"I thought so."

He could hear the smile in her voice, felt her warmth as she nuzzled his neck and relaxed into the protective circle of his arms.

"Oh…before I forget…"

Lazy with sleep, she nudged his hip as she moved her hand to point at the package that was waiting on the bedside table, "Mom sent that for you. She said you didn't _have _to wear it to work or anything, but it might be nice to wear it when we visit tomorrow."

Had she been any other woman, he would have used her words as an excuse to cut things short. He was the sort of man who prized his independence above all else. But given their history, given what he knew about her, her words were meant without artifice.

It was up to him whether or not he chose to wear whatever the gift was. Just like it had been his choice to finally meet her parents.

And so, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see, was probably already asleep, he smiled.

"I'll do that."

* * *

They arrived precisely on time, or rather five minutes early as was Val's custom.

Caught in the middle of moving food, Leslie had been forced to call for Art, and so it was _he _who met them on the porch.

"How's my little Valentine?!"

Opening the door and catching his daughter up in his arms before she had even cleared the last step, Art smiled as her warm golden laughter filled the cool December air.

"Hi Dad, good to see you too!"

Bright eyed and cheeks flushed from the cold, Art was struck by how much she had changed since her last visit nearly a year ago. A woman instead of a child, though she would always be his baby girl. Clearly whoever she was seeing was doing good things for her, making her happy.

Arms full of daughter, it was only when he stepped back to get a good look at her that he noticed the man standing just beyond her, face just barely visible above a familiar scarf.

But it wasn't that bolt of blue that stunned him to silence, it was that face.

He _knew _that face, still worked with the man.

Hell, he had invited the man to drink with him only to be turned down, something about personal time.

"Daddy, I'd like you to meet..." Valentine paused at the look on her father's face, "Dad?"

Art felt the bottom of his stomach drop to his toes, as all the little details came together to illustrate a shocking but wholly unmistakable conclusion.

He had left early that evening for personal time.

Personal time with _his _daughter.

And there had been a hickey mentioned somewhere in that too.

Damn Raylan for noticing the details.

The world tilted a little on its axis before Art had the wherewithal to take a deep breath, a _long _shuddering inhale that finally cleared his head.

"Dad? You ok?"

His daughter held on to him, expression pinched, brow wrinkled in concern.

"I'm going to go get mom. You stay here ok?"

She disappeared into the house a moment later, leaving the two men alone on the porch.

"Happy Holidays, Art."

An ironic smile was pasted on the young man's lips as those familiar blue eyes met his own with respectful courtesy.

Art sighed as he accepted the offered handshake.

It really was the quiet ones you had to watch out for.

"Happy Holidays, Tim."


End file.
